


Selfless Self-Sacrifice

by KARUIame



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Self-Sacrifice, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 10:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17222468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KARUIame/pseuds/KARUIame
Summary: Dino Golzine was dead.Shot down at his celebratory party, 23:45 p.m. by a disguised Japanese boy by the name of Eiji Okumura.Slight AU diverging from episode 20's events. Introspective and explorative piece about the strengths and horrors of Ash and Eiji's growing bond.





	Selfless Self-Sacrifice

The acrid, pungent smell of gunpowder was making Eiji’s head spin round and round. His heart fluttered wildly, nearly gave out. Smoke twisted in the air before his eyes and all he could think to do was blink and stare in the ensuing madness that erupted around him.

Dino Golzine was dead.

Shot down at his celebratory party, 23:45 p.m. by a disguised Japanese boy by the name of Eiji Okumura.

Somewhere in the mix, the rabbit sensed the lurking predators nearby. Now that there was no shepherd to lead his sheep, they were steadily throwing away their costumes in favor of the wolfish innards that were hidden beneath. He was going to be swallowed whole. He was going to be torn to shreds and dumped as an empty carcass, devoid of voice, reason, feeling, and most of all a pulse. Or maybe his fate would be something worse. Something along the lines of paralleled agony to the blonde staggering in front of him and his tumultuous past. They’d strip him of his clothes and his worth. Leave him barren and used. Then mercy would come in the form of a bullet, a knife, a hand that squeezed too tightly around his throat. Or just maybe an injection of B1 that would sully his mind and entrap it in constant anguish.

Like Griffin.

_Eiji!_

Like Shorter, too. 

_Eiji?_

The sound was dull. Like he was listening to its muffled journey through sluggish waters. Too deep to reach his ears. Too far to elicit a response. So he thought.

“EIJI!”

The voice that spoke that time wretched Eiji from the numbness of the void he was spiraling into. His gaze rose. His fingers tightened on the gun and sent its quivering barrel into a face he only recognized a moment later. The pupils were blown and dilated so that the darkness nearly swallowed the jade pools. Realization sprouted lazily in Eiji’s mind, deflating his will, shattering his stance. He just about dropped the gun as Ash faced him with a gaze that couldn’t fully see, with legs that could barely hold him up. Yet there he was grabbing hold of Eiji’s shoulders as if he was in any condition to do so.

It was so like Ash.

It was so like him to heave the burden upon himself even whenever Eiji didn’t want him to, when he had been fully prepared to accept this on his own.

It wasn’t his place this time whenever Eiji had fully intended to do whatever it took to save him. His declaration to Yut-Lung wasn’t supposed to go in vain, wasn’t supposed to be laid out before the whole of New York’s finest and worst gangbangers as a falsity. Most of all, he hadn’t come to let Ash down in his time of need when Eiji was finally capable enough to do something about it.

“Ash—”

“What the hell were you doing? What do you think you’re doing?!” The furrow between Ash’s shapely blonde brows was deepening by the second. People were screaming around them. Shots were bouncing off of the walls and swiping by them audibly and all Eiji could do was stare at the obvious pull and draw of strain in Ash’s face.

“I had to save you. I had to do something!” he responded, a tremble evident in his voice even now. He wished that he could have swallowed it down like Ash would have done.

“Not like this, Eiji… Not like this.”

There was clear disappointment, but Eiji senses it wasn’t necessarily directed at him. Ash was internalizing it, blaming himself, despairing over the turn of events that he perceived as forcing a gun into Eiji’s hands. There was sadness, too. Because Ash knew things that Eiji didn’t. He knew what it was like to take a life and had enough strength and perseverance to endure it. But what about the Japanese boy? What was he prepared to endure, truly? It was one thing to make declarations and promises and another matter entirely to accept the repercussions fully as a result of the action.

It’s a reminder that Eiji wasn’t looking for at that moment. It led his eyes in the direction that he didn’t want to face only because he knew his own handiwork couldn’t be brushed off as calmly as someone else’s dirty deed. Though hands started pushing him away, though he could hear Sing shouting about leaving as quickly as they can, he still sees it and continues to see it over Ash’s sloping shoulder.

Death isn’t peaceful at all for Dino Golzine.

Eiji thought that people were supposed to look placid in death. You didn’t suffer anymore. Didn’t have to think about a damn thing. Yet the wear and tear that wasn’t present in life was suddenly displayed in full exertion in death. Eiji hadn’t seen the lines around his eyes before or believed them to be so prominent. He hadn’t seen how the cheeks dipped inwards despite the generous plumpness of Golzine’s form. He might have been able to trick himself into believing it was a sick dream that he had somehow conjured up. But his eyes were quickly trailing the spattering of blood over his face up and up to the cracked opening of his skull, the mush that was brain matter, the clear entry of the bullet that had been projected by Eiji’s own trigger hand.

He was glad whenever the doors slammed shut and blocked his view.

“Damn. I didn’t think you’d be a good shot with your eyes closed like that, kid.” Cain remarked, bulging arms crossed over his chest. He was far too calm for the moment, Eiji thought but didn’t voice aloud. That’s what the streets did to a man. Cain was proof of that. Arthur and Sing too. Even Ash.

“And what were you thinking dragging him into this shit?” was Ash’s sudden and volatile remark.

“This isn’t the time.” Sing turned on his heels, grabbing at Ash who hung onto Eiji for support, and directed them down the wide hall that hadn’t yet been flooded with Corsican support. They didn’t have much time. They had to go, and they had to go quickly. No time for petty arguments that, for all their intended endearment, only coddled and diminished Eiji to the inferior Yut-Lung had proclaimed him to be.

“We can get to the drains from here,” someone was saying in suggestion, referring to plans made earlier in the day by the two experienced gang leaders and their insistent Japanese bobcat.

“We can all hide out underground for now,” said another.

“And get ourselves killed altogether at once?” Ash snorted derisively. He had begun pushing away from the two boys at his side. His body lengthened as he straightened his spine even though the movement alone caused a sudden and prominent sway in his demeanor. He was projecting confidence and control. But he hardly had any control over himself. “They will find us down there. With Blanca, it will be easy. “Sweat beaded on his temple and Eiji had to resist the urge to wipe it away with his sleeve.

Lao was the one to speak this time with obvious contempt. “Then what do you fucking suggest?”  

Eiji was running again before he knew it, flanked by Ash who was still supported by his arm, as well as Kong, Bones, Alex, Sing, and Cain. The steady pounding of feet along the wet asphalt was becoming a symphony of sorts. One that seemed never-ending; one that seemed so loud even in the rumble and roar of New York City. Paranoia seeped into Eiji’s bones and reverberated with a sense of unease that couldn’t be calmed as they put the distance between themselves and the now ruined party. Sirens were wailing into the night a block or so away. No doubt the body was already being draped in a cold shroud of a cloth.

It had been determined that they would split their groups and disperse. Better to hide as small units rather than a hulking mass. That was too messy, too distracting and obvious as far as Ash had been concerned. Frankly speaking, Eiji didn’t know what was what in this labyrinth of street life politics and cat and mouse games. So he was more than content to take the back seat this time around. Besides his hands kept shaking. He was afraid that his voice would as well if he were to speak so soon.  

Plans were made and they were followed. Once they hit 3rd Avenue they’d split: Kong, Bones, and Alex together, Cain and Sing on their own. Eiji and Ash. In the beginning, there was some rebuttal against the two going alone considering that Eiji was likely just a lucky marksman this time around and Ash was two hours away from exhaustion induced coma. But there were no promises, no swaying the Lynx as he paced and prowled his streets in contemplation. His plans were final.

So Eiji ran with him whenever the time finally came. The green, metallic sign pronouncing their entrance to 3rd Avenue was glaringly obvious in the flickering street light overhead. They were a well-oiled machine that splintered at once into three groups headed in varying directions. One straight North, another South East, the other North West.

By then the commotion wasn’t so loud. It was just him and Ash and the sound of their heavy labored breaths underneath the normal humdrum of the city. Their hands were clasped together between them. But Eiji couldn’t tell at this point if it was done to support Ash or to prevent himself from going astray on the dark, unrecognizable streets. He opened his mouth. He closed it, then opened it again. Words weren’t really suitable for their scenario. Less so whenever his eyes caught on something silver and gleaming in the distance that caused the hair on his arms to stand. Fear shivered in his gut at a malicious clink and clack.

“Get down!”

_Ching!_

The first bullet ricocheted off a rusted pipe just three feet above Eiji’s head. After came the enthusiastic prattle of a magazine being unloaded, pouring bullets into the narrow road they ducked into for cover. The shots sprayed heat and light. Each impact was a solitary explosion of motion and sound that lit up the night and aggravated the precarious quiet of the evening. Eiji’s knees were wet with the stagnant rainwater littering the road while his elbows were scraping the asphalt on one side, a broken bottle biting into the other. He hissed out and inhaled the scent of garbage deep and hard to inflate his lungs in his panic. The voice that shouted out to them was guttural. He couldn’t make out the words as the English came in the form of colloquial malevolence, vernacular American slang highlighted by curse words and vulgarity that weren’t at all translatable into the polite and inconspicuous Japanese tongue at times. Yet he understood the main point just fine.

He had killed Papa Dino; Ash was as good as a conspirator, a threat with a multitude of links.

If the mafia had it their way, they would be dead by morning with their heads displayed upon spikes as a spectacle to send the downtown gangs into a flurry.

Eiji listened and willed his senses to fall below the wail of weaponry. He waited for some sign of information that would be useful enough for them, and it came, languidly though at first. Two voices—no, three! His heart plummeted into his stomach simultaneously with its twisting. The saltiness of sweat lingered on his upper lip as the chaos echoed without an obvious end in sight.

Weren’t Golzine’s men supposed to be occupied? Granted, it wasn’t as if they left behind a second-hand army for a pointless death wish. But winding through the streets had all been done with the intention of leading the boisterous, sly men along a ghost trail. Ash was the last person they were supposed to come across. Anxiety-ridden paranoia was declaring that they were ironically the first to be found like this nevertheless.  

There was a loud pounding in Eiji’s ears that rivaled the scream of the whizzing bullets as he tucked his head and lowered it only to feel plastic scratching along his jaw. He was searching with his gaze for little more than a handful of seconds before he found Ash there beside him. Blonde hair was scattered over the cracked Earth where Ash had fallen. Braced against the ground with practiced poise. His gaze was darting underneath the dumpster they’d lunged behind. But Eiji could see the frantic blinking, the grimace and scowl paired with it. He was planning something or another to ensure their escape. But he was in no condition to use those claws and fangs no matter how damn sharp they happened to be. He could fight. But there was no way that he wouldn’t be grazed this time if he happened to be fighting alone.

He felt more than he thought about clawing and dragging himself along the dank ground. The trash bags crinkled. The items inside either scraped along his stomach and thighs or crunched underneath his weight. Whenever the warmth of fingers came into contact, he was quick to roll and lurch until he could curl instinctively around the form that was much larger than his and far more vulnerable than its toned muscles willingly implied. Ash’s body tightened. He was still and frighteningly tense for the fraction of a second that preceded the flow of natural thought that rationalized that it was only Eiji this time and not someone else. Jade green eyes found chocolate brown. At least like this they could try to speak to one another. At least like this Eiji could protect him and draw support from his human warmth.

“We can’t make a run for it.” Eiji read his lips more than he heard the words. They settled heavily in his mind, provoking a knowing and mechanical nod.

“Not until they stop at least,” he mumbled back.

“Even then,” Ash hissed out, narrowing his eyes and their blown pupils, squinting through his lashes with obvious discomfort, “they’re not making this easy. They’re probably keeping us low so that they can sneak around.”

“To tackle us from behind?”

Ash nodded this time to Eiji’s questioning remark.

The Japanese boy felt his fingers snaking down toward the glock at his hip. There were enough bullets still; he counted. Bones had counted them, too, and Kong had offered many more for Eiji to keep on his person well before they had stormed the ill-fated party.

“Then we use force and wit.” He wasn’t about to back away now that he was stepping foot into the fray.

“Have some bright ideas there, huh?”

“Leave it to the sloppy Japanese.”

The comment was a wisp of normalcy and pleasantry that didn’t echo its normal tenderness and humor. More like a reminder of the tension that was tangible in the air.

“It’s not something I really want to leave to you, Eiji.” Eiji could taste the bitterness in that.

“It’s not like we have much of a choice in the situation, Ash.” He wouldn’t acknowledge the truth that was flashing in Ash’s eyes: the fact that this could have been an avoidable situation for Eiji at the very least had he simply listened and never persisted in staying in America. It’s unspoken but still blatant between them as if it’s written on the ground in powdery chalk. “So let me help you this time. I’ve already dirtied my hands. There’s no reason to look back now.”

The silence following wasn’t much of an indication of a truce. Somehow Ash still pounced first at the sound of the last casing clattering to the ground as an empty shell, too. Muscles tensed, knees bent as he slid himself upon the slick road and out from under Eiji, counting on the rain and surface oils to keep his stance upright. _Pop! Pop!_ Two bullets straight into the foreheads of suited men.

Another shot rang out behind him.

Ash spun around, stumbling over his steps. The direction of the bullet was a few degrees short of him. But that didn’t mean it hadn’t struck a target. Panic bloomed and his chest seized in morbid expectation. His knees went out, and it wasn’t just because of his eyes, but because of the weight that had been jostled against his shins and then abruptly heaved against his thighs. There was back-up like they had expected even if it only consisted of two bumbling fools. One was stalking toward him with a glinting blade catching the light. The other was over top of Eiji on the cold filth of the street with the dejected, fired gun kicked out of the way. Their scuffle had knocked them over and nearly took Ash down as well.  

“Damn bastards!” he cursed and flailed, dropping low onto his elbows before rolling out of the way of the stampeding buffoon headed straight for him. The blonde scrambled to gain his footing as Eiji watched from the corner of his eyes, aware in that moment of the nails scratching at his face and neck to gain purchase and hold tight. It was as if his predictions were coming true. He’d be strangled at this rate. Ash was still fumbling with the drug lazily traveling his veins. Ferocious, but not at all the coordinated beast that had gained recognition on these streets. But Ash parried a fist, jerked his own upward. It struck the base of the assailant’s jaw and spared the few seconds needed for Ash to dip, tumble, and clutch the abandoned gun to his chest.

Eiji heard the shot but didn’t see it. His fingers were stretching outward, reaching and reaching and reaching along the freezing ground. Something, he just needed something. Spittle dripped onto his face and he could smell the garlic and booze on the man’s breath as he struggled. Eiji kicked his knees up. He lurched and jerked. It was that last jolt that pushed something cool and slick into his palm, and he didn’t take the time to think before grasping the item hard and slamming it against the man’s forehead. Glass showered over him. It had been a bottle, he thought. He waited for the lapse in pressure at his throat. While it came, it didn’t last very long. Obviously, a single hit wasn’t going to take this one down.

The shard sliced into the fleshy pads of his palm. He gripped it hard, disregarding his body’s objection, and jabbed upwards in an inexperienced and hasty manner as he closed his eyes. This again… The second one this night. He swallowed down bile and twisted away from the warm wetness that was seeping out and over his fingers and out from underneath the weight slouching against him.

He wanted to vomit. It was surging up into his mouth whenever he found his way onto his knees and then finally to his feet. The only way he stopped it was by clamping his lips together as tightly as he could. This wasn’t the time for this! His eyes veered until they finally settled on Ash as the boy swayed left to right on haphazard footing. But his gaze was unflinching and focused on Eiji. 

“We’ve got to keep going.” The ebony-haired youth said as if in explanation.  He would be damned if he wasn’t going to endure this with the same level-headed manner that Ash compartmentalized everything. He feigned nonchalance and hoped it mirrored the boy’s own as he wiped his soiled, lacerated palms over his jeans. The wounds were stinging and demanding attention but they didn’t have the time. Biting hard at the fleshy inside of his cheek, Eiji looked to Ash and waited for some type of reprimand. But Ash swallowed down his own objections. He didn’t have the words at that moment anyway. So their sneakers dredged up sludge and moisture to splatter the corpses with instead.

It was ominous how the words were swallowed up by the violence and their fatigue devoured by the deluge of epinephrine. It was temporary. But it pushed their feet whenever Eiji was ready to fall to the ground due to pure mental toil.  His heart wouldn’t stop fluttering in his chest even when they reached landmarks of familiarity, even when they finally paused to slink their way up the stairs of the rattiest abandoned apartment building that Eiji had ever seen. It wasn’t home and Eiji wasn’t sure when they would ever see home again. But it’s discreet, random, and had running water whenever Ash flicked the handle at the spigot in concern. It would have to do for tonight and maybe even tomorrow night. It’s not like they had many other places to go anyway.

Even though they had found a place to rest and to clean up, to warm themselves against the oncoming chill, Eiji couldn’t bring himself down from the high. His body couldn’t stand the quiet, the stillness, and twitched with impulsive fits and fidgeted while he pressed his back into the rotted cabinets of their newest abode. He wished that the lights would turn on and yet second guessed it. He didn’t particularly want Ash looking at him at that moment. But it’s true that Ash needed his attention more than ever at that moment. He could put on that façade in front of his men but there was no hiding from Eiji in their solitude.

Whenever he spotted Ash, the boy was at the windows peering through the slit blinds. No lights outside aside from those attracting moths above the walkways. No cars passing by. No men in suits. The sigh he gave in relief could be heard well across the room. He was so engrossed in his inspection of the outside world that he didn’t keep his attention inwards. Whenever Eiji’s chilly fingers rounded his waist he was quick to jump, alert, ready to address the newest threat that could have passed into their territory.

“Are you hurt?” Eiji murmured. His fingers pat Ash’s sides and slid along his arms. Scrapes, bruises, but nothing serious it seemed from touch.

“I’m fine.”

Small external injuries or not, that was far from the truth.

“Define fine, Ash.”

Ash’s mouth twitched at the edges when he heard that. Not in a smile or really a frown. That grimace was finding its way back onto his face. “Just slap a few band-aids on and I will be good to go. More importantly…” Eiji felt his hands being yanked forward. “What about you?”

Sheepishly Eiji frowned. Truth be told, his concerns had followed a one-track mindset. What was a pair of slashed hands compared to all that Ash had encountered that night and all those preceding? “They sting. But other than that it isn’t so bad. I haven’t gotten the chance to take a look though.”

The way Ash stroked his fingers so tenderly left Eiji wordless. He stared into the darkness at what he knew to be his fingers, though he could only identify by perception through other senses aside from sight. The flesh was raw and irritated. While he hadn’t lied before, the more attention he gave the injury the more it seemed to pester him with its tingling pain. He flinched whenever Ash swiped his thumb over the right palm, likely to feel the wound because he couldn’t see it quite as well if at all.

“You can’t take pictures if your hands don’t function right.” The boy’s hands were cradled in the slim, pale hands smeared with mud and blood. They matched for once. “Don’t be stupid about your safety and your future. You have to protect your hands.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be taking more pictures in no time. Just you wait and see.”

“Promise it to me.” Ash whispered calmly. But his hands were shaking uncharacteristically around Eiji’s own.

“Of course, I promise, Ash.” 

And he left it at that. Ash never went on tangents. He gave his perspective and allowed the topic to drop into oblivion with the certainty that his voice had been heard, especially since it was the Japanese boy hearing it. Eiji turned toward the window and yanked at the blinds to send them scuttling upwards against the dirty glass. So long as they didn’t linger in plain sight it shouldn’t be that dangerous to allow the light in. He wondered if Ash would refute the idea and was content when he only turned his head in Eiji’s direction. He blinked steadily as if clearing his eyes of a lingering mist.

“You should still find some alcohol to splash on the cuts. You’ll lose them to infection even if you don’t have them sliced off first,” he murmured casually now.

“I’ll take a look around in the cupboards. But I doubt there is a kit here to tend to ourselves with.” They’d survived on less before though. “You should sit in the meantime. I’ll find something for us to eat.” Before any protest could arise, Eiji grasped Ash’s forearm in a firm warning, just to slacken it in lackluster assertiveness. “There’s a couch over there. Make use of it, alright, Ash?”

The floorboard creaking was the only indication that Ash had actually listened to him once Eiji had turned away to rifle through the cabinets. Somehow his phone hadn’t been lost in all of the chaos. Its luminescent screen was tinged with color, its image setting Eiji’s lips into a pout as he used the light to look around. Mockery from the Gods, maybe. Or just ironically timed. In the picture they were both smiling, free of harm and threat. How Eiji wished it was just another day such as that. It was becoming increasingly obvious though that the type of day depicted in the picture was rarer than the reality they were stumbling through currently. This was the true normal.

“How’s soup?” he finally called out as he eyed the fraying paper along the tin cans stuffed, luckily, into the back of the cabinets above the sink. Someone must have left in quite a hurry. He reached out and swiped his hands along the different levels of each piece of storage but his search only turned up a few cans of food, a folded and dirtied napkin, and a few rat droppings. No alcohol for their wounds. Not even the band-aides Ash had mentioned.

“Well I was hoping for lobster,” was the lackluster though humorous reply.

“You’re lucky that I don’t have natto.” Eiji didn’t even have to turn around to envision the sneer that followed. He chuckled merrily to himself and set the two cans upon the countertop before scrounging about in the dark for additional supplies. Two spoons would be nice. But it seemed like that was too much to ask for. Abandoning that mission, Eiji uselessly flicked the ignition switches on the stove. It wasn’t as if he expected them to miraculously light. They were small, useless motions that served to use up the reserves of energy that had manifested during their journey. He had to work out the tangle of nerves and deplete the hyperactivity causing his knee to bounce while he pried open the two cans.

They appeared thoroughly demolished whenever he presented one to Ash and settled on the molded couch cushions with his own. It was with startling ease that Ash lifted his legs and Eiji sat, just to feel the boy shift and lower his legs again so that they were extended over his lap. Routine. Even the night’s affairs couldn’t disrupt it.

He could almost shut his eyes and project the sensation of being home. The air would smell of cinnamon or vanilla depending upon which air freshener Mrs. Coleman had presented him with. The air conditioner was humming, or maybe the heat due to a passing front outside. Eiji couldn’t decide which was better: the quiet of their companionship on nights that they spent alone eating, sipping tea or coffee, or even drinking beer; or the pleasant rowdiness of company from Ash’s followers as they littered the furniture by themselves or as pairs. As a rule, he was generous to those around him, which included the gathering of young men that had placed a metaphorical crown upon Ash’s head. But Eiji genuinely liked them all. It wasn’t done simply to be courteous. They made him laugh, joining in on his tiny plans, encouraging slang terms and friendly English whenever Eiji stumbled over the many inaccuracies and impersonal aspects of his translations. Alternatively, there was the intimacy of late nights when he and Ash were alone. Stories trickled out, memories of nightmares and of victories that visited them in those normally lonesome early hours of the morning. Ash had laughed whenever he told him he hadn’t stayed up past three o’clock in the morning once when the dawn had been speckling the horizon with pinks and nectar oranges. Ash in return had said he hadn’t slept eight hours in what seemed like a century.

Eiji opened his eyes and looked to his left. The swell of comfort his imagination had brought sent him floating on a faulty calm. In that moment it might have been just what he needed though. He peered through the dark to interpret the lines and sounds that were present around him in the real world now. Ash’s nose was upturned at the ceiling. He had finished sipping his cold soup and dropped it to the ground some time ago whenever Eiji had been daydreaming. He wished it had been warm for him. But they had to make do. Practicalities were more realistic than luxuries.

“Were you falling asleep?” Ash asked him as Eiji eyed the full can of soup between his own hands. It hadn’t been touched. At least it wasn’t like it could get cold over time. The moonlight shined in through the window and illuminated the slow blink of Eiji’s eyes as well as the slight reduction in blackness in Ash’s eyes.

“No.” He rubbed at his eyes all the same. “Is the drug wearing off for you now? Do you need water, medicine?” If need be it could be found, stolen or otherwise. Eiji bent low to set his soup upon the ground before turning toward Ash for a closer inspection. The green pools were steadily getting bigger. What a relief.

“Slowly…” Ash rubbed at the side of his jaw and gave a long sigh peaking with fatigue and exasperation. “Just give it time. It’s not completely back. But it’s just blurry now, so give it some more time.”

Still Eiji’s fingers were scaling his neck and shoulders, hands and ribcage, all before reaching the angular, boyish lines of the American’s face. Certain spots were warm. But his cheeks were still a bit cooler by a few degrees. Eiji’s fingers lingered over the patches of flesh while staring into the darkness, catching only the faintest details that were afforded to him in the limited light. He indulged in the close proximity. In the familiar smells and pressures of their limbs tangling. But most of all he delighted in the fact that Ash was there at all. The whole ordeal was terrible. Dino, Yut-Lung, Arthur—all of them were sinful, veracious beings that offended the practical compassionate heart that beat in Eiji’s chest steadily now. The past held nightmares that he could never realize to their entirety. Ash experienced many things that he, sheltered as he was, could never understand. But maybe now they were equal in another sense though the degree was small. Maybe now that two men tonight were… Two men Eiji had—

Eiji’s ringtone was blaring well before he noticed. He fumbled, dropping his phone twice. Meanwhile, Ash stared with a raised brow.

“Yes?” He finally spoke into the receiver after shoving it to his ear in haste.

“Eiji!”

“I told you they’d be fine!”

“He’s with the boss, ‘course they are fine.”

“I knew that! Think I’m stupid?”

The influx of voices assaulted his ears in the most satisfying way. Smiling, Eiji tapped the button on his phone to project their voices outward into the night so that Ash could hear the rejoicing on the other line, too.

“We can both hear you now,” he said. Sing’s name was displayed on the phone in bold letters typed in katakana. Eiji still hadn’t switched over to English phonetics.

“How did it go on your end?” Ash, flexing his limbs in recognition of the voices said suddenly. “Have you heard from Cain and the others as well?”

A little static and then, “Everyone made it out. A few scrapes, some bruises for tomorrow. Nothing we can’t all handle.”

“Yatta.” Out slipped the Japanese term _. Thank goodness_.

“Cain said a few of his men were hit. But nothing lethal.” Alex was piping in on the line. They must have paired up again somewhere along the line, Eiji thought to himself. “He said to tell you that we could meet tomorrow. The usual place. Got a time for him, boss?”

A moment of consideration was given before he answered. “Ten in the morning.”

“Roger that.”

There was movement on the other line before Sing spoke again, a little rise and tremble of glee in his tone rivaled by the seriousness of its connotation. “Seems it went over well enough. But this isn’t over yet. Golzine’s men are out for blood.”

“So you better not take it easy then, kid.”

“You either.”

“Ash and I are safe. Everyone should get some rest while we still have the chance.” Eiji murmured as he crossed his knees and leaned back against the creaking, broken springs prodding into his back. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t push himself too far.”

He heard the wetness of lips smacking, of Ash preparing for some smart-mouthed retort, but Sing had beaten him and spoken out of turn. “Make sure of that, Eiji. See you guys tomorrow at ten. Glad you’re back, Ash. So is everyone else.” And just like that, the call ended with a click.

“You two are going to be the death of me someday,” Ash was mumbling to himself with a shake of his head. Eiji twisted and pushed his phone back into his pocket.

“I’d consider that peaceful to the many alternatives in your life, Ash.”

“Doesn’t mean I will enjoy it.”

“Who said anything about enjoying it?”

This time Eiji was shaking his head. “You should go to bed, shower even. I’m sure you’re soiled from today.”

“I’ve been soiled more than this before, Eiji,” was the blasé response, “Body fluids aren’t much of a problem for me when I’ve swallowed half of them before.”

It’s one of those moments where Eiji wasn’t sure what he is supposed to say. He flounders. Part of him can’t find the words because he still isn’t accustomed to this type of affronting knowledge that is common in Ash’s speech; the other half of him isn’t even sure what response could dignify such a statement. Its source is obvious, and when Eiji swallowed it felt like aid down his throat.

Ash suffered. From bullet holes and gaping stab wounds that wept blood. From selfish hands that claimed gratification in exchange for mortification, never comprehending or never caring about the expense being paid by a small child. He’s lost his childhood in a moment of fight or flight and the explosion of a bullet from a gun, years and years ago whenever the police didn’t believe his tale. Friends die.  Interests fade. What enthralled him one day was a horror the next; all that lived died, and surely Ash believed that all that lived certainly suffered too.

Eiji couldn’t wipe the slate clean even if he tried. Stained permanently in blank ink, staining Ash’s hands and spreading the discoloration with every touch to his face and shoulders, chest and knees. Were the scars more numerous on his body or in his heart?

“I’m sorry.” It was all that he could say pathetically again.

“No, I am.”

But it was a reminder now, one that had Eiji fidgeting nervously on the couch. He sat up straight and felt Ash move with him so that their knees touched and they faced one another dead on. Days had passed in which Ash hadn’t been at his side. And so… So….

“Did something happen?” he said it only after mustering up all of the courage to put it so forthrightly. And to Ash’s credit, he didn’t flinch at all over the prospect this time. Unintentional backlash had come and gone, and he breathed steadily as if everything was alright because maybe then he could be convinced that it was alright for the moment.

There was only silence to follow the moment, tense and stagnant like the stale air. Not unusual or unexpected, and in some ways not disappointing either. Maybe Eiji didn’t need to hear the tale or Ash couldn’t bear to tell it in that moment when the wound was still open and stinging. Eiji didn’t need the answer. He affirmed that with himself by guiding his arms around Ash’s torso. He could feel Ash’s heart beating. He could smell the scent of body odor and cologne, though it wasn’t his. Eiji lowered his head to Ash’s shoulder and relished in the softness of the flaxen threads brushing against his cheek as he did. “It’s okay… Welcome back, Ash.”

Deflating at the words, Ash’s shoulders slumped. He breathed out and rustled the curls resting on the nape of Eiji’s neck with hot air. But ever so surely and ever so slowly his arms wound around Eiji too.

The stillness lingered. The quiet. There was touch and smell and sight to anchor them to reality and little else. In this embrace was the shelter that they both needed after the traumas they had endured while the sun had watched quietly from the sky.  The day was over. The night had come. Whatever injuries they had would heal. But their souls may not, not entirely.  

“You do know that they will come for you specifically now,” Ash said to him, so close that Eiji could feel his lips brushing his ear. “Killing Dino Golzine is going to haunt you. Even if it isn’t through men carrying guns.”

He waited for this and yet he still wasn’t prepared to hear it put into words directed back at him. Killed… Well, there was no other way to put it, now was there? Eiji flinched nonetheless to hear it put so plainly. The images flashed to the forefront of his mind in brief snippets as if the occurrence was playing out again: pungent smell, curling smoke, spinning, falling, descending into his thoughts where he couldn’t possibly evade himself. He blinked hard and balled up the fabric at the back of Ash’s shirt.

“I know that,” he replied with seeming calm. In spite, his chest squeezed and his heartbeat fluctuated frantically.  

“I won’t let them do anything to you. So help me, Eiji, I’ll make damn sure of it.” Ash raised his voice and nearly spat the words in his desperation.

But he couldn’t help but laugh just slightly that time. “I’m not a… er, how do you say it? Damsel in distress.”

“I’ve never considered you that even once.” Ash paused and continued with the same certain tone as before, “But the reality is that this is going to be hard, beyond hard. I need to say it even if Sing tells you it was good to shoot, or if Cain says it was what had to be done. Because I wish you hadn’t, Eiji. I wish you hadn’t.”

“It’s done, Ash.” He pushed away gently with the smallest sigh, and though he couldn’t see Ash’s eyes, he imagined he was looking straight into them. His body was beginning to shake again. He could feel the creeping tightness inside of his chest again and wasn’t sure if he could stifle it entirely this time. Something about his words, the vulnerability and need coloring them, was ripping down Eiji’s personal protection until he was stripped bare and weak for the attacks that weren’t nearly as intentional. “I will deal with the consequences. With you. Together.”

He stared down at his hands in his lap rather than looking up. “It could take a lifetime to forget. Another lifetime just to swallow it. You needed to hear it from someone who knows.” A quiet reminder that Ash had taken lives and lived with the guilt. But Ash didn’t seem to understand that Eiji had gone through this run down already in his lonesome nights before. “But we have at least one lifetime together to face it.”

“Maybe another one after that,” Eiji added softly just to lighten the tone.

He didn’t know how long afterward they avoided saying anything more about it and subsequently dismissed conversation altogether. But he was thankful for it if only so the writhing emotions in his chest were squashed down into oblivion for a little while longer. In time Eiji finished his soup. Eventually, Ash went and showered. By the time Eiji entered the grimy old bathroom to take his turn, the faintest hint of dawn was peeking from the horizon.

As soon as the chilly water lashed his shoulder blades, Eiji felt the warmth of tears spilling over his cheeks. The onslaught was sudden but greeted with the certainty of inevitability. The shivers, too, and the sudden dry heaving that sent his stomach into a state of disarray. He prayed to whatever God ruled over this unforgiving mass of land that Ash wouldn’t hear him throwing back the curtain and falling to his knees beside the toilet. The way he clutched the porcelain throne was pitiful, and the sounds of him sobbing and vomiting all at once was an offense that should be heard by his ears alone.

He killed someone.

He actually killed someone.

The action had finally perished for the night and left Eiji in a false sense of placidity in Ash’s presence. Moments into his solitude and here he was withering away at his fragile seams. At least before there had been something, anything to occupy his mind aside from the glaring truth. Even when Ash spoke plainly of the events he was still there to grab Eiji’s hands and force him to focus on what was most important in those moments—that Ash was alive, safe, and that it was due in part to Eiji’s action tonight.

Atop the list of the many, many sins one could commit, murder was understandably at the peak. While death was explored in its many peculiarities of shame and honor throughout Japanese culture, it was anything but a welcomed friend into one’s home and heart. It’s why they didn’t carry guns. Why hara-kiri was so honorable, because death couldn’t blemish the purity of life by being sucked out through a vicious and intentional murder. How would Ibe ever understand this tale? His mother? His sister? His vision blurred and speckled around the edges with dark spots just at the thought.

He took their lives into his hands. Dino’s with a gun and the other with a makeshift weapon coated in slime and grunge. Justification by the rule of survival didn’t bring much peace of mind. While Ash had teased him before about his uncanny ability to see his own responsibility in every aspect of their daily lives, in every small mishap, this was far from the numerous casual occurrences where his sleight of hand hadn’t made the slightest difference or deserved an apology or admission of responsibility. This was different. Stepping backward was impossible. Should he attempt it he could already feel the hands grappling at his ankles, the voices screaming into his ears.

_Murderer!_

_The blood is on your hands this time!_

_Unforgivable!_

_Damnable!_

Would his life now be reduced to the cat and mouse charade? Slaying the king of an empire was no small feat, and with it came the glare of a million eyes set to find the Achilles’ heel. So he would have to ditch homes in favor of temporary dwellings? Would he have to steal and hunt his foes as a method of self –preservation? He had no knowledge in knives or how to use them properly as a weapon; the first time he handled a gun had been his childish examination of Ash’s own in what seemed like such a distant past.

Closing his eyes tight, Eiji stepped under the water again to drown out his racing thoughts. Playing across closed lids, he saw the shimmering image of himself so long ago accepting that polished gun with the grip warm and worn from constant usage. Ash’s personal favorite. Handed to him as a token of friendship that had no place in their awkward meet-up in the beginning. It began with the simplest of gestures, and Eiji had no idea how it was going to end now.

Happiness seemed ill-suited. The constant littering of tragedy and destruction along their path was all too numerous for optimism to light the way with a swath of brightness. It was a dim flicker in the distance that Eiji couldn’t forsake lest he threw away every opportunity Ash had of a life worth living. He would drag them both until they were bloody and raw should happiness be within their reach afterward. He would hold any weapon, run any distance.

He would give his life. If it meant Ash could know peace, Eiji would swallow the bullet himself.

In time his tears slowed. In time the cold water was just a little too frigid. The handles on the faucet squeaked with a lack of use as he shut the water off and stood dripping wet in the center of the filthy tub. No towels to be found. So he stood there for just a moment to let the beads of moisture drop.

His hair was sticking to his cheeks in patches as he stepped out finally. His reflection mirrored his path away from the tub and to the sink it hung above. No toothbrushes either. Eiji wished that he could scrub away the taste of vomit from his mouth. But instead, he raised his gaze and stared at himself in the broken glass of the mirror. It was so obvious that he had been crying. Ash wouldn’t have missed it for a moment.

Before coming out of the room following his shower, Eiji made sure the redness around his eyes was at its most minimal. But after staring continually at the same spot it was difficult to differentiate how the first had looked and the end result fared. There weren’t any clean clothes, and so they both had resorted to their underwear for the night. The apartment building was anything but warm. His skin was raised, irritated by the cold as he weaved his way out of the bathroom and toward the bedroom they had claimed as their own if only for the night.

His back was to Eiji and his body rested in a pool of early morning light shaded in amber. Again Eiji called out his name, but the silence following assured him of what he had already come to suspect—Ash was asleep. His chest rose and fell slowly. His body sunk into the mattress as if there weren’t a million holes riddled through it, as if it didn’t reek of sweat and sex. He was a picture of calm among the sea of tumult.

Ever so carefully Eiji slipped over the edge of the mattress to join him. No blankets, and so the only option for warmth was to huddle up for the projection of bodily heat. His head landed on Ash’s shoulder. His arms stayed at his side as he faced the blonde to watch the slow open and close of his mouth as he breathed through it slowly and audibly in little huffs and whistles of air from between his lips.

Fast, fast asleep.

Eiji hoped that he was dreaming of something saccharine. He prayed his dreams were anything but the eventual terrors that tended to wake him in the night with sweat, screams, and even tears. Even at night, the horrors didn’t escape Ash. Dino had ensured the engraving of his will into the unwillingly malleable mind of a wounded little boy. Ash could heal. But that didn’t mean the pain would be gone. It could be soothed, rectified with a little justice, and maybe that was what Ash needed.

Eiji had stormed the building tonight knowing that he might not return. But that hadn’t scared him. What had was the idea of Ash never leaving its stubborn claws and remaining a prisoner inside of his own life, his own body, and mind.  What terrified him was the idea that Ash would never see another day with the potential for happiness.

Eiji couldn’t live with that. He would have rather died than stomach the personal pain bottled inside of the blonde’s impregnable casing of soft flesh. His fingers rolled idly along Ash’s arm to observe the prickled flesh of a cut; the irritated pink of an old scar. Past and present alike were defined by the pain they entailed. But if only Eiji could stop its course and halt the progression of senseless savagery. His willful idealism spouted nonsense about peace and camaraderie. Realism shunned it and stuffed it away while pushing into his mind the reality of things, that life was never so simple. Happiness was work. Not a natural right. Work that, in Ash’s case, had yet to bear its fruit.

His sigh breezed over Ash’s face and rustled his damp hair. Eyes still closed, Ash looked a little lifeless. How Eiji’s heart clenched recognizing that in the deathly silence Ash looked more peaceful than he ever had before.

“I’m sorry.” Forever he would say it. Even if no one else would, and precisely because no one else would. Because no one saw him as Eiji did.

Dino Golzine, Frederick Arthur, Abraham Dawson, Eduardo Foxx…even Yut-Lung. A mighty list of names and short compared to the mounting repertoire of enemies to Ash’s name. All in all, he was a pest, a temptation, a fuel to the fires of greed and envy and the provocative mask of lust.

To Alex, to Kong and Bones and the followers of his pack, he was a king of mighty right. He meted out the law with his fists and decreed primal justice with a command. A justified patriarch.   

To Sing and Cain a Lynx of gargantuan stature. Prowling their streets, at first threatening their prey. But now a worthy adversary and perhaps even a friend.

To Jessica a child of many truths, a bearer of the same burden.

Ibe: perhaps a threat at one point, now a distant promise for the future of someone he cared deeply for.  

Max—a son and a pal.

And to Eiji? What did he see? There were many faces to the man named Ash Lynx. Many pseudonyms and covers for Aslan Jade Callenreese. Black and white. Dark and Light. Death and life. He was the epitome of it if Eiji had to put it into terms now. He wasn’t one or the other and hardly fit into one limelight among the many views of those around him. Ash was a true gray in the scale of things, fitting smack dab in the middle where the purity of his heart couldn’t be outweighed by his crimes; but where his tender heart could not also excuse the bloodied hands.

Ruthless killer and practical street-wise thug.

Little boy with a heart too big and a mind too sharp.

His teacher.

His friend.

His soul mate.

Eiji spared another glance at Ash though the sun was rising higher and higher into the sky. No lingering darkness from the night. The room was bathed in early morning light and yet Ash was still fast asleep as if cradled by the pleasantness of its warmth.

For this Eiji would shoot again, he realized. For Ash, he would do what had to be done and face the consequences afterward. Act first and think later for once in his life.  Though he never meant to kill, as the question rose to his mind suddenly his answer gave him pause.

Could you do it? Again?

 Without a doubt.

And suddenly Eiji didn’t feel so sick. Didn’t feel as if he would vomit again at the slightest motion, or that his heart would flounder and cease to beat out of shock and pain. It wasn’t indifference. It was acceptance. Because Eiji didn’t mind being a killer if it meant he was saving Ash Lynx in the process. He’d accept Hell’s invitation and meet the boy there in due time if his promises were worth anything at all.

So he sighed. He shifted until he was comfortable besides Ash and placed his sullied and calloused hands over the top of the other pair in the bed. Then slowly and surely Eiji closed his eyes to sleep.

And he didn’t dream once about the cruel deed that had been done.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know about you, but I was so proud of Eiji in episode 20. We saw a side of him that we don't often see in the anime: a calling to action for those he cares for. While Eiji is tenderhearted and logical, he's ruthless in his selflessness. I wanted to explore that and push Eiji's limits by creating this AU. Granted, it wasn't supposed to be this long. But hopefully, it doesn't drag on for everyone else and is a pleasant read. Hope you enjoyed.


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